


Marks of Heaven

by Theta8



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: ? - Freeform, Ambiguous Relationships, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Body Positivity, Body Worship, Gen, M/M, Platonic Cuddling, Queerplatonic Relationships, Tasteful Nudity, art fic, but I did, fat positivity, i swore i wouldn't, non sexual intimacy, non sexual nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-21 12:39:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21299606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theta8/pseuds/Theta8
Summary: Crowley wonders if Aziraphale has the same golden markings that angels in heaven do.  The angel grants him a revelation.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	Marks of Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> Based on an idea by BastardCrowley and art by loni_capri on twitter. 
> 
> "What if Aziraphale's marks of heaven are golden stretchmarks?" 
> 
> https://twitter.com/loni_capri/status/1187543786949398529?s=20

Crowley had his nose in some of the new “pirate spaceman adventure” books while Aziriphale fastidiously dusted his shelves. He could have “miracled” the dust away, but he liked the face time with his collection. Crowley told him that’s not what “face time” meant, and poured himself a glass of wine. Aziriphale returned to dusting the shelves. 

“Hey, Angel?”

The angel in question poked his head out from behind a shelf to peek into the back room.  
“Yes, Crowley?”  
The demon sauntered out, shyly looking at the tassels on his shoes as he talked.  
“When I was, uh, up at head office covering for you,” His fingers danced around in the air, as if trying to properly arrange the words. Aziriphale waited patiently. “Is it just ArchAngels and such that have the uh,” He gestured vaguely at his face, “The shiny bits?” He could be so charming when he was uncertain.  
“Oh, those?” He put down his duster. “The Markings of Heaven you mean? Well, yes. All angels are marked by the Almighty.” He realized this didn’t apply to _former _angels and tried to think of a delicate way to explain the difference. Demons still had wings, after all, they were even better groomed.  
“It was, what you might call, an aftermarket addition.” He tapped his fingers on his signet ring, carefully observing Crowley’s reaction. He gave no clue behind those dark glasses, and his face was frustratingly indecipherable.  
“So, do you have them?” the demon asked casually, but Azirphael knew what kind of devilish curiosity lay beneath the surface, and he began to smile “When you’re in heaven, I mean,” Crowley added, scratching at the back of his neck, as if he wore an itchy tartan collar.  
Azirphael would have blushed if he could. There were no simple answers with Crowley. 

“Well,” he began with a bashful smile. “They’re actually visible right now.” He saw an eyebrow rise above the dark glasses. “Well, almost visible,” he clarified. “It’s a consequence of being corporeal.” A little bit too corporeal for the standards of most angels. He rubbed the back of his neck as it warmed.  
A lopsided smile spread across Crowley’s face.  
“I could show you.” Truthfully, he liked the idea of showing these markings to the only other being who might understand how they came into being. Crowley had just about figured it out from the apple red blush on his cheeks.   
“You could.” He agreed, as if they had both decided the weather outside didn’t warrant an umbrella, after all. “Shall I finish dusting, Angel? I did interrupt you.” He offered politely, delicately picking up the duster where the angel had laid it down.  
“Why thank you.” Aziraphale grinned and gave him an appreciative pat on the shoulder as he passed to the back room. Crowley watched him go with a smile on his face; not the sly grin of a demon, but a pure, happy smile, like the first time he’d met the uncertain angel.

  
  
Though he wasn’t susceptible to cold, he could still feel it on his skin, and remarked in passing that perhaps he ought to adjust the thermostat. He gathered up the thin throw blanket instead and reclined upon the sofa’s pillows. 

“Angel? Where have you gotten to?” Crowley’s voice came from the other side of the shop, upon seeing that Aziraphale was not at his reading desk.  
“I’m in the back room,” he called through the door. “I have a little something I want to show you.” He carefully adjusted the throw across his body.

As he entered the dimly lit study, Crowley’s eyes fell upon a glorious sight.. Aziraphale lay across the entire couch with nothing but a blanket draped over his hips, and the golden markings of heaven on full display. They fanned across the gentle curve of his belly like wings, flowing in wide rivers across his hips, and over the soft swell of his thighs. They even dotted the soft inside of his arms, exposed where he propped himself up on the end of the couch. Each stripe glittered against his skin, and the angel smiled proudly.  
“They’re wonderful,” Crowley remarked in a reverent whisper. His eyes trailed over his body admiringly, a grin breaking wide on his face. “How did they come to show up like that?” He watched each unique mark change shape, lengthening or widening when Azirphale breathed.  
“They’re stretch marks, you see.” Aziriphale began meekly, trailing his finger across one on his torso. “It comes of living so long in a body and getting, well, fat.” He said the word with some trepidation, but it was the language of simple truth, which they had learned to share over millennia on earth; it suited them well. “They just started appearing, a little bit at a time.” The effect was such that his celestial nature was peeking out through the boundaries of his physical body.  
Crowley leaned forward, quietly extending a cautious hand towards him.   
"Sorry,” he withdrew his hand, as if the skin before him was a delicate painting. “Angel, demon ... probably explode...” he laughed softly, retreating, just as Aziraphale caught his hand, inviting him closer.  
“I doubt it. Go ahead, my dear,” he whispered, tenderly guiding Crowley’s hand to his midriff, where his delicate fingers brushed over a jagged, golden marking. Aziraphale responded with a breathy laugh. “That tickles.” The skin was delicate and sensitive. Kneeling beside the angel, Crowley ran his whole hand over his belly. The stretch marks created minute ridges and valleys on the surface of his skin, and Crowley’s nimble fingers danced over each of them. The angel’s skin warmed at his touch, and he sat up to make room for Crowley on the couch. He lifted his arm, and Crowley curled up in his embrace, starting to count the markings on his ribs. “You’re gorgeous, you know?”  
Aziraphale blushed. “I appreciate your fascination, but it is getting a bit nippy in here,” He tugged the throw around his body. Crowley put his arm around the angel and snuggled into the crook of his arm, laughing softly. “I’ll keep you warm, angel,” he enticed with a tender kiss on the cheek. Aziraphale smiled and pulled him closer to return the gesture. “Indeed,” he hummed contentedly. 

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to do justice to these wonderful characters, their unique relationship, and this gorgeous idea. 
> 
> I can't give enough thanks to loni_capri and BastardCrowley. I actually jumped out of bed with excitement when I first saw this image. It made me feel happy about my body and my stretch marks, in a way that nothing else has.


End file.
